


The Breasts of Doom

by KendraPendragon



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Breasts, F/M, Humor, Sex, Sherlolly - Freeform, Vaginal Sex, sex and humor, smutember
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-08-20 06:51:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8239970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KendraPendragon/pseuds/KendraPendragon
Summary: Basically, Molly shoves her breasts into Sherlock's face...and he reacts accordingly.





	

It had been supposed to be a happy Sunday brunch. Just the Watsons and Sherlock and Molly. The pathologist had invited them and had spent weeks in preparation of the event, thinking about what to serve. She had spent hours on the internet reading about different breakfasts in different countries, in the end giving their brunch date the theme 'Seven-Nation-Sunday-Brunch'. She had set the table on Saturday evening and got up at 4 to put everything together, some of the meals already prepared the day before.   
Molly was so very proud of her work and was so excited to have their best friends over, remembering those joyful Sunday brunches with her family during her childhood. She had been so happy then and she had hoped to recreate this happiness today, filling her flat with cheerful banter and laughter.

Little did she know that Sherlock was not in the least keen to go to the thing. Actually, he was a bit offended. Molly knew that he didn't eat breakfast and he couldn't understand why she insisted on making him sit down at a breakfast table for hours and hours, not enjoying himself. It was just a waste of time.

So, on 'Seven-Nation-Sunday-Brunch', Sherlock arrived at his friend's house in a foul mood, it only increasing the longer he sat at this overladen breakfast table, bored out of his mind. Not even little Jamie could entertain him, the little girl peacefully sleeping in the carrier (her favorite place to sleep in).

With nothing to do, his boredom quickly turned into frustration. This frustration lead to anger. When he was angry, his mouth took over. Several snide comments did he utter. It only made him more furious that they all ignored them, most of all Molly. Not knowing when to shut up he continued, until he made the fatal mistake of commenting on the size of her breasts after Molly told Mary that she didn't like to wear low-cut shirts.

“Shut the fuck up!”

Sherlock and the Watsons flinched.

“God, I’ve had it with you insulting my breasts!”

“Eh, I think it’s time for us to go.”

Sherlock looked at John, begging him with eyes to stay, but only got an angry glare for a reply. Mary gave the same answer when he looked to her for support. She just grabbed little Jamie and left Molly’s flat with her husband.

Now he was alone with a furious Molly. Last time he had seen her this furious they had been at the lab at Barts after she had tested his urine, right before she had slapped him. He prepared for one to come. But Molly never did as he expected.

She bolted out of her chair, her leg bumping into the kitchen table, coffee spilling out of the four cups.

Sherlock yelped when she grabbed his ear and some of his hair.

“Molly!”

“Shut up!”

Gosh, that woman was about to tear his ear off. He had to get out of his chair if he didn’t want to look like Vincent van Gogh.

If Mycroft could see him now, Sherlock thought while little Molly Hooper dragged him through her hallway into her living room, he would have a good laugh at this.

Sherlock yelped again when she shoved him down on her couch.

Who knew this petite woman had that much strength in her?!

On the other hand, he had seen her saw open a rib cage when the electric bone saw had been broken (by him, but he would never tell anyone, of course)…

“How dare you treat me like this?!” Sherlock complained, rubbing his burning ear and glaring up at her, wearing his most annoyed face.

This expression turned into pure horror a second later when Molly pulled her over-sized black jumper over her head and tossed it to the side.

_Red bra_ , did it echo within his mind palace.  _Molly Hooper wears a red bra_ .  _A laced, almost see-through red bra_ .

The image burned itself into his cornea.

“W-What are you doing?” he panted, his hands digging into the soft couch cushion.

“I’m finally putting an end to your insults, you bloody git.”

“By showing me your breasts?” he almost shouted.

There were sirens blaring in his head, he could hardly hear his own voice. Neither did he see much else than those laced cups and the creamy mounds they were trying to hide.

His cock twitched, telling him it was very much alive.

Damn it, he had been so sure he had managed to kill it and these bloody instincts!

Sherlock bolted out of his seat – and was pushed back down a second later.

For God’s sake, why was this woman so strong all of a sudden?!

He tried to get up once more.

Molly straddled his lap and yanked at his hair.

Sherlock gasped.

She glared into his eyes, her face so close her hot breath was hitting his lips.

A shudder ran through him.

From one second to another he felt her weight on top of him, felt the body heat of her uncovered upper body, felt – he gulped – felt the heat of her sex on his legs, seeping through both their trousers.

A shudder ran through him when her nails scratched over his scalp.

  
Her hands reached behind her back.

Sherlock heard blood rushing through his ears, his heart was thundering against his rib cage. The noises inside his body were about to deafen him. On top of that his eyes hurt from staring and his groin was burning hot.

The bra fell to the floor.

Sherlock’s lips parted.

The noises inside his head died away.

He blinked.

 

_Breasts. Molly Hooper’s breasts. Molly’s breasts. Breasts, breasts, breasts._

That’s all his brain could work up at the moment. It was too busy cataloging every little detail his hungry eyes drank in oh so greedily.

“See?” he heard her say, her voice sounding very far away.

Oh yes, he saw. He saw everything.

_Areola pigmented in a brown color, a bit like pale, varnished rosewood, almost perfect caliber to her breast size._

A raspy breath came out of his parted lips, hitting this delicious looking breast.

A gasp from his pathologist.

His eyes grew even wider as her left nipple hardened right in front of her eyes, rising, tautening the rosewood areola in the process.

_Fascinating. Oh so very fascinating._

His eyes were glued to the now pebbled nipple, slightly moving while Molly drew shallow breath after breath.

His mouth watered.

“Do you still think they’re too small?”

As if in trance he slowly shook his head.

No, they weren’t too small. They were indeed perfect for her size. And shaped oh so nicely, round, brimming and perky.

His tongue darted out, licking the top of his lip. It wanted to lick something else. His eyes focused on the nipple again, this lovely hard little nub peaking out of the dark tissue surrounding it.

His body was awake. There was no way denying it. The beast he had chained in the dungeon of his mind had freed itself and was tearing down the walls he had so carefully built up.

Sherlock had known Molly Hooper would be his undoing, he thought as his hands cupped her arse and pulled her close until he could feel the heat of her pussy where he needed it.

Another high-pitched gasp fell from her parted lips when he pushed her down on the throbbing bulge in his pants. Now her eyes widened in shock.

“Sher- oh my God!”

His lips were clamped around her taut nipple. Its heat attracted his tongue and he pushed the tip against it, steadying the yielding little thing with his teeth.

Molly squealed.

He might have bitten down a bit too hard.

_Serves her right_ , he thought darkly and let the bud plop out of his mouth only to claim the other. 

It was all her fault. Hers and the fault of her lovely, lovely breasts.

He sucked, his nose buried in her soft mound.

The beast inside him roared his approval and the pathologist on his lap threw back her head, her long hair tickling his knuckles.

Sherlock panted against Molly’s flesh.

The hunger for her grew with every passing second. This need for more, all of her; it was consuming every last bit of cool logic.

His eyes fluttered shut and for the first time he let his body have what it craved:

Molly Hooper.

It had craved her for years.

Oh, he had known. Not at first, the signs too subtle, easy to be ignored. But the pull towards her had gotten stronger and stronger. For a while now Sherlock had known he would succumb sooner or later. Of course he had hoped for later, knowing that if he had a taste of her, he wouldn’t get enough. He was an addict, after all.

And now that the moment was here, it was just as dreadful as he had feared: The burning need, the inability to think, the desire and devotion overflowing, setting his skin aflame.

Panting, Sherlock switched to the other breast again, letting the tip of his tongue flick over her nipple teasingly fast before he moved in slow, relishing circles around her areola.

Her little hands wandered into his hair and fisted in his locks. A growl erupted from deep within him when she gently pulled at his follicles, a shiver running down his spine.

That damned woman. How could she know that he loved it?

She had always been a mystery to him. She still was. Even more now that she was in his arms, this beautiful creature, furious a few seconds ago and now…

He looked up at her, her nipple brushing his bottom lip.

Her brown eyes were sparkling with lust, her lips were parted and her cheeks flushed.

God, how much he wanted her!

If he could only prove worthy of her, if only she could feel what he felt for her, all of these confusing, intense feelings that were linked to her name, he thought almost desperately.

Keeping their gazes locked he bent down once more and tenderly closed his lips around her already wet nipple. He kissed it, then the other, then back to the first.

Molly bit her bottom lip and watched as his tongue darted out and slowly circled around her nipple.

It was beyond arousing to have her watch him and he was fascinated by the emotions flickering across her unguarded face.

_Beautiful. So beautiful._

Pleasing her felt so good. He wanted more. More.

He pulled her lower half even closer and buried his face between her breasts, bending her upper body backwards.

Oh, the warmth and softness around him was heaven. He could have stayed there forever. He wanted to bed his head to sleep right here, with her scent all around him.

But he feared if he asked her she would laugh at him. He’d hurt her so much, been rude and arrogant. He had some making up to do. But he would. He would until she begged him to stop.

 

Now that her back was arched, her breasts were even more accessible and Sherlock wasted no more time and took advantage of her position. His teeth nibbled, his tongue flicked and his lips kissed and sucked until Molly was panting heavily and her hips were rolling her pussy over his cock in an almost frantic rhythm. 

Pride filled him when his name fell from her lips.

Then, oh so sudden, his pathologist came, clinging to him while her body was shaking.

With a groan he pulled her soft, quivering form against his rough body and held her, breathing in her scent and listening to her little squeals of delight.

He was so high on her his head was spinning.

The taste of her skin lingered on his tongue and he inhaled her scent soundly, his arms tightening around her until she gasped.

He let go of her only to roam over her back and still covered arse, the soft cotton a rough contrast to her delicate skin.

“More, Molly. More. Please. Please.”

Before she could protest he had lifted her off the couch and sprawled her onto the coffee table, wiping it clean with one hand, first. The sounds of the various objects landing on the floor were obnoxiously loud.

With urgency and impatience he shoved back the chair and undid her trousers, his breath still shallow. Molly’s hands joined and helped him and she lifted her arse when he hastily pulled down the disturbing pieces of clothing.

If he had been a more patient man he would have admired this wonderful scene before him; Molly Hooper, in all her naked glory, sprawled before him. But he was no patient man. He was an addict who needed a fix.

So he opened her legs with shaking hands and buried his head between them.

A load of pre-cum shot into his pants when he had the first taste of her.

He moaned against her hot flesh.

_So wet. So fucking wet._

Emitting a throaty growl he plowed through her slit with as much tongue as possible, scooping up her flowing juices and drinking them, his eyes closed.

_God, she’s exquisite._

Again.

And again.

His big hands curled around her thighs to open them wider. His hungry mouth devoured her, sucking in the outer lips one by one before they closed around the swollen clit and sucked hard.

Molly flinched and with a high-pitched moan she buried her hands in his hair again.

Oh, yes, he loved it. Loved to feel her fingers scratch over his scalp before they fisted into his hair; loved that she pulled him against her pussy oh so wantonly.

But he would not let her off the hook so easily now that he had her, he thought darkly and denied her his tongue. Instead he turned his head to the side and – acting on an old, primal instinct – closed his mouth around the skin of her inner thigh, sucking and nipping at the sensitive flesh until she groaned and pulled roughly at his hair. The skin plopped out of his mouth and he moaned, a million shivers running down his spine. He was almost sorry when she eased her grip on him.

A satisfied, proud smirk set on his face when he saw the deep red spot on her creamy skin.

_Mine_ , the beast growled with satisfaction.

 

Molly’s alluring scent caught his attention again and his eyes returned to her pussy. Her pink wet flesh was begging him to taste her again.

He obliged with a sudden attack, his tongue invading her.

Molly’s legs twitched and she gasped.

With his nose pushing against her clit he explored her innermost, discovering her sensitive areas with curious flicks of his tongue.

“Oh God, Sherlock”, Molly gasped and pulled her legs towards her body.

Instantly his hands were pushing against her thighs, making sure she wouldn’t end the access she had just granted him. He wanted more time. More. Always more.

The legs in his hands twitched in sync with the movements of his tongue. Sherlock was a fast learner. He knew what his Molly needed now.

His lush lips closed around her clit.

It was time for another orgasm, he thought wickedly and sucked while simultaneously teasing her cherry with the tip of his tongue.

Molly came screaming.

She tore at his curls, her entire body shaking, countless of moans and gasps falling from her lips. But she would not tear him away now, no, not while her juices were filling his mouth.

He sucked and drank, prolonging her pleasure, turning it into torture in the end. He waited for her to beg.

When she did, his lips left hers and he opened his eyes.

The cock in his pants twitched longingly when their gazes locked.

She wanted him bad.

_Not yet_ , he told himself. He was not done enjoying her. 

Still looking into her eyes he plowed through her slit once more.

Her mouth fell open. Her hands were roaming through his hair tenderly.

He gave her a little smirk before he did it again.

Molly’s head fell back onto the table and her hands cupped her breasts, massaging them, her index fingers shamelessly teasing her nipples.

Molly Hooper was fucking sexy.

_So, so sexy._

He watched her while he pleased her, his tongue circling around her clit, searching the right spot. When she bit her lip, he knew he had found it.

Now he was merciless, attacking that spot right under her clit continuously until her moans and screams were loud enough to be heard in the entire building.

He made her come two more times.

 

Molly was sweating and could barely breathe by now. Her entire body was trembling with lust.

“God, please stop, Sherlock. I can’t…It’s too much.”

She was gasping for air, one hand brushing through her hair.

“You should have thought of that beforehand”, he answered huskily and kissed her wet pussy.

He couldn’t get enough of it.

But now, he wanted to feel it clenching around him.

Licking the remains of her delicious juices off his lips, he opened his trousers.

“Sherlock”, Molly gasped as she watched him undress, “we really shouldn’t.”

Sherlock pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside.

Her eyes roamed his body.

Her mouth said no, but her eyes said were just as hungry as he was.

“You started this”, he complained as he stood up and stepped out of his trousers.

Molly bit down on her lip when her eyes fixed on his erect, glistening cock.

“Are you really going to deny me the pleasure of fucking you after I gave you so four bloody orgasms?”

Not waiting for an answer he climbed onto the coffee table, careful not to hurt her. Molly visibly shivered when he was hovering above her, his head only inches away.

“You will hate me afterwards”, she whispered.

“I hate you already”, Sherlock commented dryly and looked down, grabbed his aching cock and rubbed it through her hot folds, wetting his tip.

“What?” she gasped, her hands landing on his shoulders.

Ignoring her, he pushed inside her. His eyes fluttered shut.

A shiver ran through him.

His senses were flooded with the sensation of being inside his Molly.

“God, you’re so fucking wet”, did it escape his lips as he pushed in to the hilt, trembling.

She felt fucking fantastic. So slick, so tight, so hot. Her walls were clenching, pressing, massaging his cock oh so heavenly.

The beast growled with pleasure and he moaned.

Why was he even hungrier for her now that they were united?

He claimed her nipple with his mouth and began sucking soundly.

His hips began moving slowly, retreating to the tip and pushing back in again to the hilt, resting there, enjoying to feel her all around him.

“I won’t last long, Molly”, he announced in a raspy voice. “I was already aching for you before penetration and now that I’m inside you…”

Sherlock completed his sentence with a groan and another push. He closed his eyes again and concentrated on pushing into Molly’s welcoming pussy.

With every push the need for her only grew stronger; the need to feel her, taste her, hold her.

He buried his head in her neck, breathing in her heavenly scent.

Honey. She always smelt like honey.

His mouth sucked in her tender skin, the tip of his tongue exploring, tasting, feeling.

 

Too caught up in his own pleasure, Sherlock needed over a minute to notice that Molly was eerily quiet and unmoving. He wanted her to hold him, to writhe against him, to tell him with her body that she wanted him just as much as he wanted her.

With his brows knitted in confusion he looked up and found her staring back with tears in her eyes.

“What?” he breathed, his hips stilling when he was deep inside her.

“I’m sorry, Sherlock”, she sniffed and a tear escaped her lashes. “I know you didn’t want this-“

“No, I didn’t”, he confirmed.

Just because he was fucking her didn’t mean that he would start going easy on her all of a sudden.

“But we’ve past the point of no return, Molly. There is no use for your tears now. So stop.”

He kissed the little drops off her face. They were annoying him.

He pushed into her again and she gasped, her breath hitting his throat.

His lips instantly moved to her mouth.

Now they were sharing the same breath.

“And when it’s done you’ll despise me. We won’t be friends anymore.”

“Of course we won’t.”

She closed her eyes and turned her head to the side.

He placed open-mouthed kisses on her alluring swan neck.

“Wrap your legs around me, Molly”, he breathed into her ear and pushed into her again. He had used his dark, commanding tone. He had noticed that she liked that tone when he used it on John or Lestrade, her pupils instantly dilating.

With satisfaction he observed how she quivered beneath him and felt how her muscles clenched around him. Finally, she obliged.

Her legs crossed on his back and she pulled his hips against hers, her heels digging into his arse.

“Yes”, he groaned approvingly and sucked on her neck.

He loved it.

But it still wasn’t enough.

“And your arms, Molly. I want your warmth and scent around me while I fuck you.”

“Dear God”, he heard her whisper desperately, but she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, anyway.

“Good. Mmm, yes.”

He moved. He just had to. Now that he felt and smelled her he couldn't not do it.

His pushes turned into thrusts and he kept up a rhythm where he could just enjoy his Molly without getting too excited. Oh, the beast wanted him to go faster of course, but he wouldn’t obey it. This was more than sex. This was sex with Molly Hooper.

When his Molly moaned he looked down again. Her head was still turned to the side and he placed soft kisses onto her neck. It took him almost thirty seconds to notice that there was still something wrong. His hips stilled once more.

“You’re not enjoying yourself”, he complained, an angry frown on his face.

“I’m fine.”

“I don’t want you to be fine.”

His voice was louder now.

She looked up. There were still tears in her eyes. Why?

“What do you want then? Do you want me in pain?”

“What? No!”

He didn’t understand. It was so bloody hard to think with his cock inside her hot little pussy.

“Then you’re out of options because I’m not okay with you fucking me when you don’t want to.”

“What the hell are you talking about? Is my erection – and the fact that I’m having sex with you right now - not proof enough that I want to have sex with you?”

“Your body wants it, not your mind. You just said you hate me for making your body want me and I’m sorry that I did this to you but I was furious-“

Sherlock stopped listening. Her silly rant was just so annoying. And everyone said he had no manners. He had been so good to her and his reward was this?! This was supposed to be their first time, a memory which they both would always hold dear, a moment of bonding and passion and tenderness! But no! Molly had to ruin it with her rambling and her not understanding him at all.

He sighed.

This woman was infuriating sometimes.

 

Heaven, she was still rambling!

Sherlock had enough. He shut her up by placing his hand over her mouth. She looked up at him, her eyes wide.

“Could you please shut the fuck up?” he asked her with an angry hiss. “I’m trying to make love to you, Molly Hooper, and you’re ruining it with your babbling mouth.”

After a second he put his hand away.

She blinked.

“Making love to me?” she repeated in a high-pitched voice.

Sherlock suppressed the urge to roll his eyes.

“Yes! In case you haven’t noticed – which would be quite insulting, by the way – my penis is inside your vagina, Molly. And it’s still hard, surprisingly so if I may say, despite your rant, which is a big turn-off for me.”

She blinked again.

“Love?”

Her eyes searched his face.

Now he did roll his eyes.

“Yes, Molly. I love you, big surprise! Now can you please focus on this? I have waited years for this to happen and you’re destroying every fantasy I had about it.”

Time ticked away while Molly stared up at him, utter confusion and disbelief on her face.

Sherlock wondered if he could just continue while she came to terms with what he thought were well known facts.   
Mary and John certainly knew. Lestrade as well. Anderson had sent him an e-mail with engagement ring suggestions. Mycroft and his parents had sat him down and explained the responsibility for a family almost a year ago. Heck, even Donovan had shot a threat ‘not to hurt her or else’ in his direction after they had left Barts together one night.

So why was this big news to her?

The question that had been hovering above them for years had not been ‘if’, but ‘when’.

Silly woman.

 

“You love me?”

He rolled his eyes.

“Yes.”

“You really love me? Like a man loves a woman?”

“You’re not about to sing, are you?”

“This won’t be a one-time thing?”

“If you continue to talk it will be a no-time thing.”

“And you want to be with me? Like a…boyfriend?”

“If you ever call me that again I’ll never satisfy you orally again.”

“What should I call you, then?”

“Is Sherlock fine with you?”

His voice was full of impatience.

“Yeah, but for when someone asks what you are to me?”

“You do realize that my penis is still inside you, don’t you?”

“Just answer, please.”

He sighed and rolled his eyes again.

“Fine, use the b-word. But not when I’m with you.”

“Oh my God, Sherlock!”

“I haven’t even moved!”

She laughed and pulled him down for a hug. Her mouth searched his. He turned his head and finally, after years of learning to trust each other, of fighting the longing, breaking each others hearts and waiting for the right moment, their lips finally met.

_Fireworks._

At least their first kiss held up to all the fantasies that had spooked around his head for such a bloody long time.

His tongue parted her lips and sneaked inside her mouth. Hers met it without hesitation.

Hmmm, Molly Hooper was an excellent kisser.

Shivers ran down his spine right to his cock.

“Can I _please_ fuck you now, Molly?” he almost begged.

“Yes, please”, she breathed and lifted her head to steal another deep kiss from him.

He didn't mind the theft at all.

Kissing her deeply and thoroughly, Sherlock began to thrust again.

He wrapped his arms around Molly's petite body, making sure she wouldn't escape him now that she was finally, completely his.

Sherlock swallowed her hums and moans hungrily, feeling her hot breasts pressed against his chest and her nails digging into his shoulder blades. Her soft, creamy thighs were rubbing his pounding hips and this felt really, really nice.

The obscene sounds of their lovemaking drove him crazy with lust and once again his head was dizzy, clouded with desire and the hunger for his little pathologist.

Sooner than he wanted to his rhythm became frantic, demanding, almost desperate.

_Deeper_ , was his only thought and he pushed and pushed, into the woman who had captured his body and his soul.

The table beneath their sweaty, naked bodies was shoved over the floor.

And, dear Lord, she loved it. She was moaning and pulling him closer, even though it was not physically possible to be any closer than that. And then she was kissing him and... _oh boy_.

He breathed her name into her ear like a call for help before he buried his head into her neck and pushed as fast and as hard as he possibly could.

God, it felt so good. So fucking fantastic. If only he could last forever. But he felt his climax rise, felt his testicles tighten.

Sherlock panted against Molly's neck, kissing it with shaking lips.

“Molly...Molly...God, Molly!”

He pressed his open mouth against her throat to stifle his loud groan when he came, pushing into his sweet Molly, releasing his sperm deep inside her.

In the distance of his clouded mind he heard her squeal and then her walls were clenching around him - he almost passed out from the intensity of this heavenly feeling.

 

For a very long while, they just lay there on the coffee table, Sherlock on top of his Molly, her arms and legs tightly wrapped around him. While he left countless of tender kisses on her throat and shoulder, none of them said a word. They both knew they weren't very good at talking. Yes, they knew they needed to talk about all this and the direction in which they wanted to go from past the coffee table, but not now...nor anytime soon. There was enough time for this. Just for a few more precious moments, Sherlock and Molly wanted to continue to float on the high of their first time.

 


End file.
